The Adamas Crown: Brick City
by Sarosenna
Summary: Book One in a duology set between CoHF and TSA1. When Clary and Jace led Isabelle, Alec and Simon into Edom and left with Magnus, Jocelyn and Luke and Jonathan's dead body, they ended the Dark War-but began a tangled feud with old enemies and newly made foes. They've fought ancient beings before-but will they survive a battle with all at once?
1. 1)Awakenings

**Author's note:**

The inspiration for the title comes from the saying "I found Rome a city of brick and left it a city of marble". The story occurs _after_ City of Heavenly Fire but _before_ The Shadowhunter Academy. The first story will be all in New York, which I have never visited. Geographic inaccuracies are therfor inevitable. I am going to attempt a small tie-in between the two actual stories mine will take place between, and it's intentional that the next one will be called Marble City.

Copyright disclaimer:

I don't own a thing written. If you notice any plagiarism, please point it out to me, because it will be edited.

* * *

_Clary ran through the streets of Alicante, chasing the small girl with flyaway red hair who was clutching Heosphoros to her chest. She was laughing, panting, as Val was extremely fast for a five-year-old. They were almost at Angel's Square, where Clary assumed Val would take advantage of the crowds. She sped up._

_It was futile, anyway. Jonathan appeared at the end of the alley, and grabbed Val, tossing Heosphoros to the ground. Clary picked up the fallen blade and sheathed it, regaining her breath._

_"Valentina," Jonathan scolded the smaller redhead. "You know you don't steal things from your sister."_

_"It wasn't stealing," Val protested cheekily. "It was borrowing."_

_"Without my permission?" Clary pointed out. "I don't even let Jace touch Heosphoros."_

_"And that is an excellent point, little sister," Jonathan continued, his green eyes looking down fondly at the struggling girl in his firm (but not harmful) grip. "You're not old enough to use proper blades yet, Val. You could hurt yourself badly, using a heavy sword like that. You need to stick with the hawthorn swords and throwing daggers."_

_"When will I be old enough?" Val complained, going limp in Jonathan's arms. "They're so easy."_

_"Valentina Graymark," Jonathan said sternly. "We all agreed that you would only begin using proper swords once you've been Marked."_

_"I have been Marked," Val protested, showing Jonathan the pale scars. "Look!"_

_Clary sighed. "Those are _iratzes_, Val, and they were really weak, too. You know the Silent Brothers will be giving you your first runes, not me."_

_"Fine," Val groaned._

_"Good girl," Jonathan said, loosening his grip on his little sister and crouching to her height. "Tell you what-why don't we go and buy you a witchlight? If you want to go down into the cellar again and "explore", I want to make sure you have a proper source of light, not some silly candle."_

_Val perked up. "Can it be pretty?"_

_Jonathan smiled. "It can be pretty, if you like. There's a shop in Angel's Square. Coming, Clary?"_

It's just a dream_, Clary told herself. She all too well remembered black eyes and two thrones, and those green eyes on her as he had died. But she didn't want to wake up yet. She smiled. "Sure."_

_Jonathan smiled even further and took Clary's hand in his own, and Val's in the other. Together, they stepped into the light._

_It wasn't a particularly busy day, yet the people still stopped to watch the siblings, hand-in-hand, walk over to the shop. _Valentine's beautiful children_, they whispered reverently to one another. _Jonathan, Clarissa and Valentina.

_"They still won't stop talking about us," Clary complained, entering the store. "I can't even go shopping with my brother and sister without being identified."_

_"It _is_ rather tedious," Jonathan admitted. "But there's nothing we can do about it, so don't bother."_

_"You just like the attention."_

_He shrugged, nonchalant. "There's nothing wrong with people noticing my innate attractiveness."_

_"I like it," Val said, inspecting some butterfly-shaped witchlights. "At least they aren't calling me ugly." She held up a blue-tinged witchlight. "Can I have this one?"_

_Clary smiled adoringly at the sweet child before her. _She could've been the loveliest sister_, she thought sadly, and woke._

_Don't you dare cry, Clarissa Adele Fairchild,_ she ordered herself. She blinked back the salty liquid that blurred her eyes, and stared at the light that was making its way through the window. _Don't. You. Dare._

With a sigh, she clambered out of bed and faced the day.

* * *

"Morning, sleepyhead," Magnus said affectionately as a blearily blue-eyed Alec stumbled towards the coffee machine.

Alec mumbled something in return. His pyjamas, Magnus noticed, were the white silk ones Magnus had given him for Christmas. They set off his dark hair and black Marks spectacularly, and his skin appeared more translucent than ever, and his eyes, when not blinking back sleep, were the deepest aquamarine. _He looks_, Magnus realised, _almost like Will, only with Gideon's build and Gabriel's face. Now, why doesn't he just wear _that_ on a daily basis?_

Chairman Meow leaped onto Magnus's crossed knees. Magnus petted him affectionately. "Did he sleep on your head last night?" he asked Alec.

"Yeah," Alec confirmed, his voice grittier than usual. "And I'd only just washed my hair when he did, too."

Magnus grinned, then sobered up. "I noticed you wake up in the middle of the night. What was that about?"

"I got a call from the Clave," Alec replied, now rather serious.

"What about?" Magnus inquired, alert. The Clave tended to avoid Alec, Magnus knew. If they called him in the middle of the night, Alec might have actually meant "my father" instead of "the Clave", or something had happened to someone close to him. There was also the possibility that it had been Magnus who they required, only the New York Institute needed warlocks less and less these days, with Clary around, and Alec would've woken him anyway.

Alec hesitated. "They found a warlock's body in a warehouse close to Central Park. And there was the stench of dark magic in the air."


	2. 2)Daily Life

**Author's note:**

I recognise that this chapter has a lot of mother-daughter moments. This was partially intentional. I did want to set the scene for Clary to have an ordinary day, and keep her away from the Institute. I also wanted Jace to go on a bit of a grand gesture and ask Clary out on her home phone (as small-scale grand as possible, at least). Jocelyn brushing her hair was also a nice idea, because I feel like the plot in the actual series neglects Jonelyn's relationship with Clary. The Maryse-Isabelle paragraph, I confess, was a plot convenience. In the first chapter, it turns out Alec got a phone call in the middle of the night concerning _a dead warlock's body _in a warehouse near _Central Park_. The idea of it is that the Clave found the body and equipment relatively preserved. The stench of dark magic, of course, is the explanation for the Clave's interest, and what better way to explain their timely arrival than to implement the use of a Sensor? I also wanted to make sure that the investigation goes to "Team Good's" hands without the assistance of the Clave. To explain away the fact that Isabelle makes it through the encounter unscathed, I excuse it to the fact that she was demon hunting, meaning a greater quantity of weaponry than usual.

* * *

Jocelyn knocked on the door. "Clary? Are you awake?"

"Yeah," Clary answered, opening the door for her mother whilst still brushing her hair.

Jocelyn regarded her daughter. "What have I told you about drawing in your pyjamas?"

"Are you here just to tell me off?" Clary retorted, struggling with a knot.

"No," Jocelyn replied, smiling a little. "It's Jace," she explained, handing Clary the phone, "and let me do that," she added, nodding towards Clary's tangled tresses.

Mother and daughter sat on the bed as Clary took the phone. "Hey you," she greeted her boyfriend.

"Hey," Jace greeted back, in a voice that made Clary fall in love with him all over again. "Do you want to go on a date with me?"

"Do I-what?" Clary asked, caught off guard. Usually Jace would call her own phone, or text, if he would ask such questions.

"It's Saturday," Jace explained. "I need to get away from the Institute right now. I was thinking the swimming centre," he continued, "I'd love to see you in a bikini."

"Come on, Jace," she replied playfully, half-way focused on his beautiful voice sending shivers up her spine, half-way focused on her mother's nimble fingers softly smoothing her copper curls. "You know you'd look way better in one."

"Is that a yes, then?"

"Absolutely," she answered, "if you're paying the entry fee." She hung up.

Clary felt her mother's frown on her. "You weren't serious about the bikini," Jocelyn asked with strict motherly affection, "were you?"

Clary shook her head, smiling a little at her mother's concern. "I only have a one-piece," she explained.

* * *

Maryse Lightwood's ice-blue eyes darkened. "Could you please repeat that for me?"

"I _told_ you," Isabelle said in exasperation. "I found the body in the warehouse, in that pool of blood over there," she jerked her head to her left, "no pentagram but someone running away, and a couple of dozens of stupid pixies getting in the way of me and them."

Maryse shook her head, stopping Isabelle's continued speech. "Not that. How exactly did you find the body?"

Isabelle sighed. "I was demon hunting-"

"Exactly," Maryse interrupted. "Isabelle, _what were you thinking_?"

"I was doing my duty," Isabelle answered, sarcasm entering her voice. "The duty of all Nephilim to the Angel and the mundane world."

"Alone? Without Alec? Or Jace?"

"Yes, _alone_!" Isabelle shouted in frustration. "I'm almost seventeen. I was carrying enough weaponry on my persona, and I can use my whip the way you can use your phone. Honestly Mother, what's the problem?"

"The _problem_, Isabelle Sophia Lightwood, is that you are still an adolescent, and therefor my responsibility. I had no idea where you were until I got a call in the middle of the night telling me that you'd found a body and a suspicious amount of dark magic surrounding it, so everyone had better come quick. Isabelle, you could have gotten _killed_!" she shrieked.

"And that's nothing new!" Isabelle retorted, her voice matching her mother's in pitch and volume. "We're Shadowhunters, Mum! We die early all the time! At least I've proven I can take care of myself in a _demon realm_! Who else my age-or older, even-can say the same for themselves? Can _you_?"

A cough interrupted the argument. "Apologies," Kadir said smoothly, "Maryse, you son and his-companion, the High Warlock, have arrived."

Maryse turned to face her son, and then turned back to her daughter. "Wait by the car," she snapped with a tone lethal enough to murder, "we'll finish this conversation later."

"Fine!" Isabelle yelled and turned her back on her mother and briskly walked away. She knew she wasn't allowed to leave, she was a witness, after all, but coming from her mother, it might as well have been an outright dismissal. Only Isabelle was really looking forward to a fight. She'd happily start it.

Her hand felt for the brooch in her pocket. Technically, she was taking away evidence, but she liked to think of it as _withholding it until a later date_.

_Yep,_ she thought to herself, _this is definitely going to Clary first._

* * *

"I asked for a bikini," Jace complained mockingly.

"Well, I don't have one," Clary answered curtly. "You could buy one, I suppose," she added as an afterthought, "only I won't be wearing it."

Jace grinned, trying to look away from her. She'd forgotten a hair tie, so her vibrant locks spilled freely down her shoulders. The dark blue bathers didn't hide her slim shape, and those emeralds that were her eyes stared piercingly out of her pale freckled doll's face and held his own. "We should lock our stuff away," he said, "but I don't really trust that mundie steel."

Clary grinned back. "I could also use a Locking rune," she compromised.

"Sure," Jace said immediately. "Go ahead. I'll just take my stele with me."

"Was that just an excuse to keep a weapon with you?" his girlfriend teased.

"Sort of," Jace admitted, and extended his arm towards her. "Shall we?"


	3. 3)Strange Pixies

**Author's note:**

In this chapter, I attempt to balance out an ordinary Clary and Jace day and the aftermath of a weird Isabelle night. I hope it worked well, I try. Please do enjoy it, it was fun to write.

* * *

"When you said you'd 'just take your stele with you'" Clary said, "I didn't think you'd just _hold onto it_ the entire time."

They were sitting, side-by-side, on the edge of the pool, their fingers touching, but not intertwined.

"Well," Jace said diplomatically with a shrug, "where would I put it for safekeeping? I don't have a pocket."

"You have a point," Clary admitted.

"That I always do," Jace replied, golden eyes gleaming mischievously. "Often literally, I might add."

"Does a stele still function in water?" Clary asked, worried.

"Logic, Fray," Jace responded, eyes rolling a little. "The Angel himself rises out of a lake and gives the first Shadowhunter a stele. Steles have only ever _improved_ since then."

Clary blushed. "I thought-"

"I know," Jace answered gently, and brushed a stray curl behind her ears. He then took her hand, sending electrical impulses through her nervous system, and slid into the water, the other hand still holding a stele. He smiled up at her. "Are you coming?"

Clary slid down the pool wall and into the water, still holding Jace's hand, and smiled back. "Does that suffice as an answer?"

"Your question? No", Jace answered. "Coming? Yes."

Clary rolled her eyes. "_Jace_."

"Clary," he murmured back, breathing into her ear. The arm holding the stele went around her back and pushed her into his bare chest, and Clary felt the power of the black Marks she was pressed against. His beautiful eyes made her feel unsteady, and her toes barely touched the bottom, but she felt more like she was sinking into his gaze rather than the pool.

"You know," she murmured back, breathless, "if we're here to make out, we didn't have to pay the entry fee. We could've just stayed in."

"Kissing is not against dating rules," Jace sighed, pretending to be put out. "In fact, it's a standard since the first date to have at least one kiss per date."

"Jace," Clary huffed, "dating rules also state that the kisses are a)not to happen in a public space unless outdoors and b)after the date, if the date takes place indoors."

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "Shy?"

"A little," Clary confessed. "We're here at a _swimming centre_, there are kids around."

"And they," Jace pronounced, "shall be riveted by my flawless kissing technique."

Clary squealed a little and splashed him in the face. Laughing, he let her go and splashed back, and so they ended up in their mock fight for a little longer.

* * *

"Isabelle."

Isabelle turned to her mother, expectant. "_What_?"

"Don't be impolite," Maryse chided. "You _know_ that was irresponsible of you."

"How? I can take care of myself, I've proved it. Why do you keep on harping on about it?"

"Where were your brothers?" Isabelle's mother questioned. "When you decided to go out, where were they?"

"Alec was at Magnus's, if that's what you mean."

"And Jace?"

Isabelle frowned. "Why get Jace involved? He's more reckless than me, you know that."

"I know I can trust him with you," Maryse sighed, "and I know I can trust _him_ to take care of himself. He's reckless, yes, but he has a usefully strategic mind, so his risks often earn him a reward. You, on the other hand-"

"I take less risks than he does!"

"Yes, but they come with dire consequences, you've proved that much. You can gamble everything away that way."

"I reckon Jace was a _bad influence_ on me, then," she muttered.

"Isabelle, I know you're a talented warrior. The way you use your whip is extraordinary, given your age. But you follow at the front. You can lead the charge, but under orders of someone else. On your own, you can hunt effectively, I don't doubt it. But what happened last night-"

"It's not all out of the ordinary."

"The High Warlock found traces of _extremely powerful_ dark magic, Isabelle. New York hasn't seen the like since Aldous Nix. Everyone but _that warlock_" she said with disgust and hatred, "perished if they were present at the time he started his pathetic _project_. Isabelle, you only just missed something very powerful, very dark-and whatever it was wouldn't have liked Shadowhunters. Those pixies certainly didn't."

"They're _pixies_, Mum," Isabelle snorted. "What kind of a Shadowhunter would I have been if I couldn't get rid of them?"

"How long did that fight last, again?"

"An hour," Isabelle sighed.

"My point exactly. They lasted an hour against a very powerful Shadowhunter-which you are, you realise-and when you beat them, they made sure you didn't follow them back. Not a single one of them died. Which reminds me, are you hurt? You don't seem to be."

"I'm fine," Isabelle answered, "back to those pixies-they were all huge, for pixies. And pale and _silvery_. And they did fight really well. Plus, I didn't hear a word, but they all fought in formations. Almost like, well, like-"

"Like what?"

"_Endarkened_," Isabelle hissed.

Maryse cocked her head to one side, driving around a corner. "It's possible," she considered, "if they were experimented on, in some way-"

"Like Clary and Jace?"

"Like Clarissa and Jace, yes-but more like Jonathan, I was thinking. I always thought the Endarkened fought with assistance from tricks like the ones the Silent Brothers used. It could just be a sensitive pixie reaction to whatever they feed on. Either way, we cannot trust the fae, not any more. And, Isabelle?"

"Yeah?"

"If you _must_ hunt alone," Maryse sighed. "Don't do anything to stupid."

* * *

"So," Magnus called to Alec from the living room as Alec made coffee. "Did Isabelle call you?"

"Izzy called me, yeah," Alec called back. "She wanted me to come, but I told her I wouldn't. She called Mum after, than called me back. We spent a while talking about it, then I hung up."

"Ah," Magnus murmured.

"What's your conclusion?" Alec asked, setting down two cups of coffee on the round table.

"I can't conclude anything, yet," Magnus explained, frowning, "but whatever that warlock was up to, it was powerful. And illegal. I hope they identify him soon and access his bank account. Most warlocks don't mess around like this without a cheque with a five-digit number. Screw that, no way would it be only five digits. Seven to nine, possibly."

"Oh, yeah, and Izzy just texted me," Alec added. "She wants us to meet her at Taki's in an hour, if she can get to Clary and Jace in that time."


	4. 4)Meet me at Taki's

**Author's note:**

This chapter is still leading up to the events. I will add some action in soon, though. That much I promise. I've just been carefully introducing the characters and the relationships they have with the people around them, leaking it all in, bit by bit. This chapter is really a slow one, not there for much purpose, aside from adding Simon to the mix.

* * *

Simon picked up on the third ring.

"Hello?" he asked, groggy and dazed from only just waking up.

"Simon?"

Simon sat up, tiredness forgotten. "Izzy, yeah, it's me," he babbled, "what's up? How'd that demon hunting go last night?"

"Ask later," Izzy answered shortly. "Look, can I meet you at Taki's in an hour?"

"Of course," Simon answered eagerly. "What will we be doing there, exactly?"

"Emergency meeting," the teenage Nephilim replied curtly, and hung up.

Simon groaned. When Izzy usually said _Meet me at Taki's_, it meant a nice hour of chatting pleasantly, and then heading off to some destination. It was a great meeting point, sometimes a rendezvous, but when his girlfriend asked him to meet him there, it was the location of an impromptu date. Unfortunately, not this time.

He looked at his alarm clock. It read 11:51 am in bright blocky letters, Simon's sleep-in day wake-up time. Fortunately for him, Ellen hadn't going to scold him for that...yet. She disliked him going to bed late, finally pressuring him to study for at least an hour every day, to cut ties to the "bad influences" that his friends were. Not that he actually went to school anymore, but he kept up the appearance that he was a mundane after being a Daylighter, not one of the Ascending, particularly for his family. They didn't have to know otherwise, not yet.

Simon trudged into his kitchen in a sleepy sludge, discovering that his mother had already left. He yawned. _It's too early,_ his common sense screamed at him, _get back to bed and sleep a little more, come on, you know you want to._

He shook his head. _I'm meeting Izzy at Taki's in an hour_, he told that voice firmly, forcing it to shut down.

* * *

Clary giggled. "That was fun."

Jace smiled down at her as the two of them clambered out. "No more than usual though, was it?"

"Remind me," Clary answered, "what standard should I have been aiming for?"

He tossed his damp hair back, teeth flashing briefly. "Let's get changed."

"Where's your stele?"

"Here," he said, passing it to her.

Clary took it and shivered her way to the lockers, Jace's (smooth-they hadn't been in long) hand on her shoulder warming her, a little. She found their locker and quickly cancelled out the Locking rune, then keyed in their code. The door opened, exposing the two plastic bags with their clothes, their two separate toiletry bags, their shoes at the bottom and the two towels that they'd hung on the hooks on the door. Those two towels were immediately put to their uses and wrapped around Clary and Jace's drenched bodies.

"We should shower, too?" Clary suggested.

Jace kissed her, briefly. "I'll meet you back here in half an hour, if you like."

* * *

"Isabelle?"

Isabelle looked up from brushing her hair. "Come in," she called, recognising her mother's voice.

Maryse entered her daughter's lair, where clothes clashed with weaponry, where shades collided to create colours too vivid to look at for long. Isabelle turned to Maryse, in black leggings and singlet. Maryse closed the door behind her and sat on the bed. "You haven't eaten anything yet," she said, in motherly fashion. "I made breakfast. Do you want to join me?"

Isabelle shrugged. "I was planning to eat at Taki's, but why not?"

"That boy," Maryse sighed, shaking her head. "He isn't your usual type, although I am glad about that-"

"Because he's a Shadowhunter soon, you mean."

"He was a Downworlder, remember. A vampire. But a Daylighter also, I might add-and he assisted the Clave on many occasions. Now, he is the mundane you met, with a few memories, born of his subconscious. But yes, he will be Nephilim."

"_That's_ all you care about? About _what_ he is? What about _who_ he is?"

"I don't know _who_ he is, aside from being Simon Lewis, a keen, if somewhat sarcastic, Ascending mundane. Now, _what_ he is, I know."

"He's Simon," Isabelle answered. "He _sees_ me."

"I can see that," Maryse replied. "The same way I can see that he looks at you the way Robert once looked at me." She looked at the unusually chaotic mess on the floor and smiled. "Are you having wardrobe issues?"

"A bit," Isabelle admitted. "I don't know if I should just go wearing something casual, and if he'd be disappointed. But I don't want to overdo it and look like I'm trying to hard."

Maryse laughed a little, amused at the dilemma. "Let's see," she mused, "how about this?"

She tossed an aggressively orange shirt in Isabelle's direction. Isabelle examined it. It had a V-cut to it, so she would have to wear the singlet underneath, and the sleeves were frilly. She shrugged and watched her mother filch out some dark blue jeans and grab two red stud earrings from her jewellery collection. "Is that good enough?"

Isabelle nodded, pleased.

"Join me when you're ready," Maryse ordered her daughter, and walked cautiously out of Isabelle's bedroom.


	5. 5)Breakfast

**Author's note:**

So I've had some Clace, I just wanted to add some Sizzy. And give Isabelle and Maryse some more mother-daughter moments. I apologise for the delay of _twenty-nine days_, but things have been busy for a while now. I'm still warming up to some action, but expect that in the next few chapters. This is still more of an introduction. Soon, though. I promise you, I mean soon.

Also, thank you to my few followers and those who favourited! These are:

-BlueEyedBabyy

-ICameOnlyForClace

-iLoveMeSomeCaptainAmerica

-linlaverynz

-triplexpuppy

-Feuerphoenix

Please review! (You'd be the first!)

* * *

"I must say," Maryse said, buttering her toast, "I'm surprised you even worry at what you wear anymore."

"Why?" Isabelle inquired, reaching for the jam. "You're the one who always says first impressions count and whatnot."

"You never take my advice," Maryse murmured into her black coffee. "Well," she amended between sips, "almost never. But you barely listen to anyone."

"I _listen_," Isabelle protested. "I just don't agree."

Maryse smiled. "That's more what I meant. Isabelle, you never follow anyone's suggestions since you turned six, and here you are, asking for _fashion_ assistance. Your forte."

"I have my moments," Isabelle mumbled. She stood, looking at the clock. "I should probably go."

"I'll see you sometime," Maryse answered, and saw her daughter off with a smile.

* * *

Simon could give Isabelle a lot of credit. She was brilliant with fashion. Excellent with demon-hunting. A master of the whip. Unfortunately good at video gaming. Punctuality, however, wasn't her strongest suit.

This time, she knew she was late. He could see it in her hurried stance. That was lost, however, as he took in what she wore. The top and earrings matched her Sensor. Her jeans and black leather jacket gave her a casually cool look, one models strived for. This girl didn't need help with that. Her flawless features were made more stunning with great cosmetics, and she was chewing on something, the best reminder he got that she was still mortal. The Marks stood out against her pallor.

"Hey," he managed.

"Hey," she replied, smiling, and kissed him on the mouth in greeting, giving him a good whiff of her caramel and burnt-sugar perfume he'd bought her for Christmas. He was touched she still used it. He figured she'd want something expensive, not a wacky thing you found at the back of the cosmetics aisles.

"You look great," he complimented her, feeling insignificant in his good jeans and favourite shirt and hurriedly combed hair and cleanest runners. She was a few inches taller than him today, thanks to the white high-heeled leather boots she wore. "Better than that girl," he added, nodding towards a model advertising some kind of brand at some shop-window opposite them.

Isabelle snorted. "_Mundanes_," she muttered. "You'd recognise whoever that's supposed to be by her face, not by her name. I bet that girl always gets that _Do I know you?_ 24/7."

"You never know," Simon answered. "Maybe she actually lives in California as a student teacher." He stepped aside, opening the door for her. "After you."

She smiled at him and he followed her into the inviting café. "I get the feeling either job doesn't pay well," she murmured in response as she plonked into a seat. He took a seat opposite her.

"Modelling? Definitely not," he admitted. "If you're thinking of a career like that, I recommend a better temper."

Isabelle stuck her tongue out at him, and he grinned.

Kaelie, the fey waitress, handed them the menus. "Are you ready to take your orders?"

"I just want an apricot-plum smoothie with wildflower honey," Isabelle ordered without hesitation.

Simon took his time. "I'd prefer waffles with icing sugar, please," he ordered. "And a large coffee."

"Not a problem," Kaelie answered, taking the menus with her as she moved on.

Isabelle looked after her. "Representative of the Seelie Court doesn't seem to pay well, either."

"Magnus says any job on the Council pays well," Simon mused. "Maybe the Clave's cut her wages."

Isabelle sighed. "Idiots."

Simon looked aside, leaving Isabelle to her private moment. He watched a pale-pink skinned warlock with sharp features interact awkwardly with a not-so-charmed vampire. _I know the feeling, buddy,_ he thought inwardly. He remembered Izzy the first time they met, aloof and superior and dangerous, even if she was cooking.

"So," he said, turning back to her, "why'd you call me here? I thought you wanted us all to hang out."

Isabelle's eyes twinkled. "I couldn't get to Clary or Jace."

"Don't you mean Clary _and_ Jace?"

"Yes. No," she confessed. "I called separately and didn't get a reply. When I called Clary's home phone, Jocelyn said she was out with Jace."

"And Alec and Magnus?"

"I rearranged things after that."

Simon tried to puzzle that out as the smoothie and coffee arrived, and moments later the waffles. "Anything in my interest?"

"Yeah. Coffee."

"That's it?" he asked, mockingly disappointed.

"No. Maybe some fun."

"Well," he answered, leaning back. "_Now_ it sounds interesting."


	6. 6)Hunting

**Author's note:**

As this is the first action scene, I will add that I am granting some characters a certain "immunity", but this will not be the entire crew. I can grant you that at least Clace will be fine.

Please review! (You'd still be the first!)

* * *

Jace and Clary re-entered the Institute at midday, and Jace immediately ran off to get the smell of chlorine out of his hair. Clary watched him, amused. _As if _that_ makes you less gorgeous_, she noted to herself.

"So," Isabelle began, approaching Clary, "how was your date?"

Clary challenged Isabelle with steady green eyes. "How was _yours_?"

Isabelle made a face at her. "Could I call in a favour?"

"As long as it's not hunting a Vermithrall demon in high heels."

Isabelle made a face again. "It's this," she said, taking out a brooch. "Do you remember how to draw that rune that helped you track down the Church of Talto?"

Clary's eyes widened. "Is that _blood_?"

"Never mind that. Do you?"

"Sure," she answered, and Isabelle passed her the (yes, bloodstained) brooch whilst she fumbled out her stele. She then turned the brooch over and noticed the demonic writings, and shuddered. _A rune, older than the Book of Gramayre, designed to reveal what lay beneath writings, rather than translate, peeling away everything until comprehensible_-

"Done," she announced, passing the brooch back.

Isabelle took it and held it up for inspection. "Thanks," she said hesitantly. "I reckon we should check this place out, you?"

Clary smiled. "I'll go grab my gear."

* * *

"I thought Isabelle cancelled Taki's?"

Alec turned to his boyfriend. "She did," he admitted, "but now Clary and Jace have turned up, so she wants to go demon hunting."

"I guessed as much by the gear," Magnus replied, "am I invited?"

Alec hesitated. "She didn't say anything about that."

"Then I'm assuming no."

Alec looked into those beautiful cat's eyes. Magnus's voice was inscrutable, not a trace of bitterness or regret. "You know, you could come along."

"Tag along in the wake of impending doom?" Magnus's eyebrow twitched upwards. "You Nephilim, particularly _your_ Nephilim, tend to brush with death a little too closely for my taste."

"They're not _my_ Nephilim," Alec muttered.

"I know," Magnus answered, "it merely sounded more interesting to say it that way. Regardless, you have a lot to look out for there. I'd rather not join in."

Alec tried to penetrate through the blank facade. "Are you okay with that?"

Magnus kissed Alec, and Alec lost himself in the brief heat of a kiss that smelled of tea and sugar, a spark that was kindled into flames quickly and left a glow behind. "Of course I am," he said easily, laughing a little. "What makes you say that?"

* * *

Jace peered through the subway tunnel gloom. "Have we been here before?"

"I have," Alec allowed. "I think Camille was killed here."

"And how would you know that?" Isabelle inquired. "_Do_ tell, Alexander."

Alec shifted uncomfortably, his face closing off. "Mind your own business," he muttered.

"That sounds kinky," Jace teased. "What was involved? A passionate lover's spat? Did Magnus find you out? Did Maureen interrupt it?"

Clary smiled a little and shook her head, but the questions stayed unanswered. Jace didn't expect an answer anyway.

They walked along the tunnel a little further, in silence, hyperaware. Jace took out his seraph blade and smiled himself. He sensed conflict.

"Hey-" Simon called out, and they all turned towards him.

This turned out to be a mistake. One minute they were strolling along an abandoned subway tunnel, the next they were surrounded. _Drat Simon_, Jace cursed, though he didn't actually mean it. This had all been planned. It had been a stupid idea to go along with Izzy's plan.

"_Adriel_," he murmured and threw himself at his closest opponent-someone dark-haired and burly, his silhouette lithe, covered in black-and all hell began to break loose. The poor soul he'd thrown himself at fell silently to his seraph blade, and a quick leap and two more were dispatched.

Something unfamiliar flickered in his peripheral vision, and suddenly a third was gone. Jace quickly reoriented himself with a shake of his head, noting he was at the outskirts and three more were approaching him. Another cry escaped him, and he flung himself forward.

This calamity required little of his attention, but he was going fast at the moment. Attacker after attacker went down, and briefly he noticed Alec topple two with his arrows before two more of his own opponents reclaimed his attention. Simon and Clary were fighting back-to-back, shoulder-to-shoulder, surrounded by four, and he worried, fleetingly, but Clary was _quick_, and Simon might be slower, yet his training was paying off. Someone blocked his view for a moment, then they "bit it", as he'd heard Clary say before. He pivoted, and a scissoring brought down two more who blocked his view of Izzy, whose whip was almost a net as it blurred through the air, and he made sure to remember to stay away from her whilst casually flinging Adriel through another, grimacing a little. One more ran towards him, but Izzy's whip sliced through him in a blur of electrum and a silvery blue glow-

"Enough," a familiar melodic voice commanded from the shadows, and suddenly the remaining attackers stopped. Jace, noting nobody was within arm's reach of any of them anyway, decided to follow suit and he turned to face the svelte figure.

"Your _Majesty_," he said with irony and a mock bow. He knew well enough that the Fair Folk had actually exiled the fae monarchy. "To what do we owe this pleasure?"

The Seelie Queen's mouth curved upwards a little, a hint of her old pride remaining, and she wore a lavish golden gown. She was still beautiful, Jace noticed distantly, but her day-blue gaze was rusty steel in his eyes, and her auburn ringlets didn't attract him, for they had nothing of Clary's fire. "Well met, Valentine's son," she greeted, head inclined towards him.

Jace hissed. "I _am not Valentine's son_."

"No?" the Seelie Queen questioned. "Then whose son are you? You never met Stephen Herondale, and as you know, Michael Wayland is a stranger. And if you believe Robert Lightwood to be your father, I would be surprised, given his abandonment of his children."

"Mind. Your. Own. Business," he gritted, repeating Alec's words for the same reason Alec had uttered them-this was private, not to be chatted about so casually, especially not by this inbred fae bitch, who laughed.

"Poor little Nephilim boy," she murmured. "Cutting everything away-"

"We're leaving," Jace interrupted, turning away.

"I would not be so hasty," the Seelie Queen said smugly, freezing him in his tracks.

Jace turned, surprised, and faced her self-satisfied smile. "Why not?"

She laughed again. "You will not be able to come back-"

"Good," he muttered.

"-and one of you is not capable of leaving anyway."


	7. 7) Waiting

**Authors note:**

Hello people, I have returned from the dead.

Well, no. But I _have_ returned after _another_ lengthy absence-apologies for that. But I have a lengthy chapter to make up for it! Thanks to people who followed, favourited and reviewed, it means a lot to me-please keep on doing so, particularly when it comes to reviews, I would like to know your opinion on my work-in-progress work.

Anyway, here is the chapter. It's mainly plot, for once. Enjoy it, and I am going now to stretch my back!

* * *

"_What_?" Simon heard Jace say incredulously. It wasn't a _"What?"_ of surprise (_Since when is Jace Whatever surprised?_ Simon thought privately), but one of hostility, disbelief and mockery-mainly mockery.

"Back up," Simon intervened hastily, attempting to squander the inevitable collateral damage Jace caused, "you're saying we can all leave and never return to this place, except for one of us, who can't even leave?" He paused, then added for good effect: "What the hell?"

"Allow me to rephrase, mundane," the fae monarch answered. "Not quite. This place is a faerie place, though not as grand as it should be-and as such, under my control. Who enters and who leaves is entirely up to me. And when the lot of you leave, one of you shall remain behind." Her gaze rested on Isabelle. "You."

"To what end?" Alec asked as Isabelle remained impassive. "What do you want?"

The Seelie Queen's smile grew, somehow reminding Simon of the devilish cocktail that had turned him into a rat so long ago. It had been blue, a deeper blue than the eyes he was gazing at, and entrancingly so, but its remains had oozed over the floor and its sickening sweetness had stained his paws.

"To business," the Seelie Queen began. "My grandmother had a crown, entirely made of _adamas_, and intended to pass it on to my father when she died. However, when the Nephilim got wind of it, they slew her and hid the crown."

"Why?" Simon asked. It seemed safer if he and Alec did the talking.

"The crown has remarkable magical properties," the Queen explained. "It is said to be passed down from our ancestors, the angels, as a gift. I would like it to be returned to its rightful owners."

"Because of said special powers," Simon concluded. "And to send a message to all the Downworlders and Shadowhunters in the wide, wide world."

"But what do you want with Isabelle?" Alec questioned. Everyone got the unspoken question: _Why do you want us to do it?_

"Do you think faeries haven't tried throughout the centuries?" she returned. "Only those with the Angel's blood can retrieve it. And you two, of course," she nodded to Jace and Clary, "have more than enough."

"Isabelle has the Angel's blood in her veins. Simon doesn't," Alec pointed out. "No offence," he added quickly when Simon and Clary both glared at him, "I meant that in a different way. Like, why get rid of one more Shadowhunter to do your bidding?"

"If you want a Shadowhunter to do you a favour," the faerie answered sagely, "threaten a Shadowhunter. You can leave now," she dismissed with a small gesture, "just remember: if the Clave gets wind of my demand, so do the fae."

The faeries' laughter echoed in Simon's ears.

* * *

"So," Magnus began, "that _adamas_ crown. Probably the crown of Queen Mab."

"Like the Shakespearean Queen Mab?" Jace asked. "Like _she driveth o'er a soldiers neck; and then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, of breaches, ambascados, Spanish blades, of healths five fathom deep; and then anon drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes, and being thus frightened, swears a prayer or two and sleeps again_ Queen Mab?"

"Well, that's all drivel of a madman," Magnus answered dismissively. "Pretty drivel, though. But yes, that Mab."

"Is that what the crown can do?" Clary asked further. "Influence dreams?"

"Probably not," Magnus answered. "Remember Lilith and Ithuriel? It was just a party trick for them. Most faeries or warlocks can do that on their own."

"Hey, that's cool," Simon commented, offering him a biscuit.

The Seelie Queen had sent them back to Magnus's loft, who had taken to seeing them appear out of thin air with good grace. They had explained the situation hurriedly, aware of the deadline. They couldn't risk Isabelle getting hungry in the court. Thankfully, Magnus was a fountain of knowledge.

"Indeed, young Simon. But no thank you." Simon nodded and offered the biscuits around to everyone else. After a quick glance in Magnus's direction, he offered Chairman Meow one. He turned it down. "As to what the crown can do, it's unclear. Lost to history. A whole bunch of guesswork, and the guesses are all simultaneously really far-fetched and very plausible. Nobody knows, except maybe the faeries."

"And where is it?" Clary wondered.

"Idris."

Alec looked up. "How do you know that?"

"Think, Alexander." His boyfriend grinned. "All this 'only those of the Angel's blood' stuff didn't clue you in?"

Jace's eyebrow quirked up. "You're just guessing, aren't you?"

"It stands to reason," Magnus shrugged. "Only Shadowhunters can enter Alicante without needing permission. And Idris is, after all, considered Shadowhunter home country. Where else would the Nephilim consider it safest?"

Clary sighed. "Alright," she announced, "who's up for _another_ trip to Idris under difficult circumstances?"

* * *

Faeries were as vain as ever. To make up for the fact that they were living in a subway tunnel, they'd decorated their hidey-hole so much so that Isabelle, despite knowing better, almost mistook it for a palace. _Almost_.

It was rather palatial, to be fair. Just a hall with a few doors on either side, but the faeries had somehow raised the roof, cleaned everything up, and made it luxurious. White marble and candlelight refracting off glittering jewels and gold accents. There was even a dais.

What gave it away were the occupants of this space. Their beautiful faces were overshadowed by narrowed eyes and lowered brows and unsmiling lips. Disdain and worry was written all over their faces. Isabelle almost pitied them for their hardships-okay, she pitied them a little. The Faerie Folk were a proud lot, capable of true beauty, great warriors, as Magnus had told her, and now they were hiding in subway tunnels. The Clave's judgement was harsh. _Sed lex, dura lex. The Law is hard, but it is the Law._

It wasn't the Angel's Law. Isabelle sometimes wondered if Raziel thought harshly of the warrior race he had created because of the common preference for vengeance over mercy. She had learnt enough in her almost seventeen years to know that these people deserved redemption. Although she wasn't exactly forgiving for the ways she was being used as a hostage.

"A snack, young Nephilim?" the Seelie Queen offered. Isabelle shot her a glare that was more out of principle than with actual loathing. Although she hated the Seelie Queen, it was better to hide emotion.

"Is this what you do all day?" she asked instead. "Hide in pretend luxury, get others to do your bidding, stay inside?"

"Well," her captor considered, "_I_ can't leave. It would be unseemly to roam around unescorted. My people can, but given their loyalty to me, they do so with caution."

"So...eat, drink, be merry," Isabelle summarised, "when you're in hiding."

"Oh, more than that, make no mistake." She laughed. "I like you, Lightwood girl," she continued. "Meliorn was a little fond of you, though I understand neither of you truly cared enough for one another to stay once you grew bored. But you would be a respected warrior in my ranks, and as for your outfits..." She examined Isabelle's current one. "Well, they aren't unheard of."

"Fashion and war. The only things I'm respected for. Great."

"You have a _reputation_, Isabelle Lightwood," the Seelie Queen corrected. "A rather admirable one, too."

"I don't have a _reputation_ for my patience, do I?"

"Well, no," she admitted. "But, as you said, eat, drink, be merry," she echoed, "while we wait."

* * *

"You're not used to waiting, are you?" Magnus asked.

"I've waited before," Simon replied defensively.

"No," the warlock considered, "I don't think you have. Well. Not in the way I meant."

"I know what way you meant," Simon said tonelessly. "And I've done that, too."

"But you're not used to it, are you?" Magnus asked, setting down some cat food for Chairman Meow. "Waiting for loved ones to return from battle, waiting for loved ones to be returned to safety."

"Are you?" Simon returned.

"Yes," Magnus answered. "After all, I am immortal."

"But age doesn't matter," Simon retorted, "does it?"

Two pairs of cat eyes turned on him. "You're a quick one, mundane," Magnus complimented approvingly. "You're right, age doesn't matter. You could be 10 or 100 and fearing for a loved one, realising just how fragile life is, knowing this uncertainty, does not get easier. But being immortal, you learn to wait for other things. Redemption, love. Longer than ordinary men can wait."

"Are you used to waiting for loved ones to come home?" Simon asked, curious but cautious.

Magnus laughed. "Yes," he answered. "But I have seen many generations of little girls and boys die of old age and still been waiting."

"So...what are you saying, exactly?"

"My point, Simon Lewis," Magnus explained, and Simon suddenly remembered the amounts of times he had forgotten Simon's name, "is that you are capable of walking through hell for your Isabelle, and she may slay a thousand demons to return to your arms, but all you can do now is..." He spread his arms, at ease and yet Simon saw some of the hidden tension he was harbouring. "Wait."


End file.
